“Feeling OK, princess?” He gave me a knowing look. He knew what was making me nearly pass out.
“Um, I think it’s the heat.” It wasn’t the heat. Not radiating from the sun, anyway. I tried to look away. I knew I was being an idiot, but he had tattoos. Two of them, one on his shoulder, the other around his bicep. The one on his shoulder looked like it said something, the other looked like a pattern stretched taut across his large, bulging muscle. Dear lord, I really might pass out.
“Why don’t you run along home now? Go cool off.” He waved a wrench at me.
That made me look away. He was such a jerk. Why did he always brush me off like a pesky fly?
“Do you want some lemonade?” I asked, my voice shy and whispery. I was such a 13-year-old around him.
“Nope.” He turned his attention back to the tractor.
“Is it broken?” I really didn’t want to leave yet. Maybe if I feigned interest in the tractor I could go stand next to him.
“No, it’s working fine. I just felt like coming in here and messing around with it.”
“Really? Why?” I asked, taking a step closer.
He looked up at me like I was a moron and I realized that I was. It was broken. He was being sarcastic. I could feel myself blushing, a deep crimson flush working its way up across my chest, neck and face. I hadn’t factored in that possibility when I’d so carefully chosen my outfit. The more exposed skin meant the more embarrassingly obvious it would be if I blushed.
“You pink right up, don’t you?” He had his wrench resting on his thigh and he watched me now with dark eyes.
“My skin’s just… sensitive.” I shrugged, wishing I could disappear into the floorboards.
“Um hmm.” Good lord, how did he make that sound so sexy? It came out like a deep rumble in this throat. Suddenly the word ‘sensitive’ seemed ridiculously suggestive. He made me so aware of myself, the way the cotton of my dress clung to my shape, how short the hemline really was, ending several inches up my thighs. I swallowed again and I swear it was so loud it echoed.
I felt so nervous, and when I got nervous I babbled. “I hate how I blush. I don’t know why, but I’ve always blushed really deep red ever since I was a kid.”
He shook his head and returned his focus to the tractor. “You are a kid. Now let me get back to work.”
Tears pricked my eyes and I turned tail. He was so mean to me. It was like he hated me.
Why did he treat me like I was a toddler? I was 18. He couldn’t be that much older. I had to admit, he seemed much, much older, but I wasn’t a baby. Some girls were married and pregnant—not necessarily in that order—by my age. He treated me like I belonged in a preschool.
I fairly ran back to the big house, grabbed my stuff and burned rubber tearing out of there in my truck. I didn’t need to stick around and take his abuse any more.
§
Later that night, I let Bruce take me to a movie. We went on a double date. Mandy was seeing his buddy from the football team, Vance. First we got burgers and fries and then we went to see some slasher flick neither Mandy nor I had any interest in but the guys picked it anyway. I was pretty sure they hoped we’d end up scared and in their laps or something.
In the bathroom before the movie started, Mandy asked me about Declan. “What’s up with that guy working on your ranch?”
“Who?” I acted like I didn’t know who she was talking about, even though I knew full well. She certainly didn’t mean Bill.
“You know, the one who’s hotter than hell! He looks like a freaking rock star or something. I saw him down at the Shop ‘n’ Save the other day and nearly pissed my pants.”
“You saw him at the Shop ‘n’ Save?” The wistful, whiney quality to my voice wasn’t lost on Mandy.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” She gave me a gleeful smile. “Does someone have a crush?”
I turned away and put some lip gloss on in the mirror. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mandy was always crushing on some guy or another. I’d always listened patiently, or mostly patiently, sometimes not so much listening. But I’d never had my own crush to gush abou
t. Until now.
Only now I found I didn’t want to talk about it. Declan was mine. Only he wasn’t mine and I felt all bent out of shape about it, hot and cold and frustrated as hell.
“I’m surprised your dad hired him.” Mandy came over closer with a conspiratorial air. “I heard he did some time in Riverside.”
That got my attention. “The detention center?” It was about two hours south, a place I’d heard was rough and full of meth heads.
“Juvie!” She declared, all too happy with her revelation. “He’s a criminal.”
“You don’t know that.” I brushed her off, snapping my purse shut. “That’s a rumor.”
“I heard it from more than one person so it must be true.”
I rolled my eyes as we walked out. “This from the person who found a crop circle.”
“I did!”
Back in the movie theater, we settled in and Bruce’s arm came up around me like clockwork. The movie was even worse than I could have imagined. Why did they always go into the dark basements alone? Bruce tried to stick his tongue down my throat more than once but I fended him off, frustrated more at myself than at him.
Why didn’t I want his tongue down my throat? I wished I did. Life would be so simple. What was wrong with me now, what switch had flipped to make me want the wrong guy? A guy with a criminal record, apparently.
Just as I resolved to try to be nicer to Bruce, he pissed me off more. Walking to his truck, he said, “I heard there’s a criminal working on your ranch.” I groaned. “Your dad must have his reasons for hiring him, but I want you to steer clear of that guy.”
“Oh, so now you know what’s good for me, better than my dad?” I stopped dead in my tracks, hands on my hips. “Listen, if Daddy hired him he knows what he’s doing. Declan’s the hardest worker we’ve had on our ranch in years. So why don’t you mind your own business.”
I saw Mandy and Bruce exchange glances. The drive home was pretty silent and I about leapt out of the car the second it pulled up in front of my house. No necking in the cab tonight.